KKM Hide & Seek or Why Shinou Has It In For Me
by tigersilver
Summary: Yuuri's been dancing about this subject for literal years. Why it has to be a big deal right now, he'll never understand. But then, there's so much he doesn't understand when it comes to his fiance.
1. Chapter 1

Hide & Seek 'Hide Predux' or "Why Shinou Has It In For Me"

Part 1

Yuuri's arms did that flaily-'roundy thing he was so very good at, whirling through the air so fast one could nearly hear them whistle. He stuttered and he huffed, making like a Big Bad Wolf and turning a beautiful shade of scarlet, a shade that contrasted nicely with the sober black of his 'Maou suit'. His long-suffering fiancé would've admired the attractive flush currently running down the length of that tanned throat not disguised by starched stiff collar but he was occupied instead with drumming up a suitable snit. He threw a preliminary Phase I™ glare at Yuuri while the Maou worked on forcing coherent sounds from his flapping mouth.

"_Wh_-wh-_**what**_? Whe-whe-_**we-we-wed-ding**__!_? Whoa-_whoa_-ohowooohowohwow-_**W-Wolfram**_!"

Well…Yuuri was not so much 'coherent' at this jointure as using his hyperventilating state to his advantage for the purpose of communicating. Rather clever of him, Wolfram noted, but still reprehensible as it could be attributed solely to self-preservation.

"I believe that's what my brother has just mentioned, wimp. Wed-_ding_. Marriage. Ceremony. Ri-tu-al. Evidently, it's now the time to commence planning."

Wolfram smiled at Yuuri in that terrifying 'you _are_ my fiancé and you _will _marry me and don't you _ever _forget it' way he had, appearing quite pleased with this turn of events. Yuuri flinched, cold shivers running the length of his spine, and flailed faster, still gasping—nay, sucking in great gasps of oxygen to counter the odd flatness affecting his chest area. He felt squashed.

"Now, wimp, pay attention for once or I'll make you wear that bearbee costume of Greta's for the ceremony. Gunter, Gwendal—what did you have in mind for the date?"

Dismissing Yuuri's idiocy with a nod, Wolf-chan turned to his fiancé's advisors.

Yuuri wound up his arms again and himself returned to active hyperventilation state, much as if a giant invisible deejay was skittering his larynx across a defective vinyl platter chock-full of authentic Alpine goat-call tracks.

"Wha! Wha! _Wha_! Hoo! Gah!!"

The young Maou instinctively went up his tiptoes in his distress, seeking some height advantage over the smirking blonde an unkind Fate had deemed he would marry – someday. But that day was not _today_, for Shinou's Sake!

"Wha-wee-_waaaay_! Wait-a-minute, wait-a-minute, _waitaminute_ , Wolfram! W-wait just a cotton' pickin' lousy little minute here, you guys!"

Having gotten his wayward tongue under a semblance of control, Yuuri was still a pathetic sight, his striking dark eyes huge and very worried in his flushed face. He jiggled and jerked in a comic manner, twisting back and forth between his preternaturally calm fiancé and his trusted advisors like a marionette in the hands of random string-happy madman.

"_I, _Shibuya Yuuri_, h_-have never, n-never, ever agreed to—at least, not so _soon—_ and _you_ know that, Conrad, right? You've heard me—haven't you? Haven't you?!"

The Maou, despite his determination to stand firm and dig his heels in about this whole marriage matter, was still undermined by troublesome facts. He had, actually, proposed to Wolf-chan. Okay, then. Yuuri resorted to puppy-dog appeal, always his refuge in heavy weather.

"Gwendal? Gunter?! I've told you guys, like over and over, till I'm blue in the face, that I'm not ready yet – and, and, anyway, _you _promised me yourself you wouldn't push this, Wolfram! You practically _swore_ you'd give me more time! I'm not _ready_ to get married! It's too soon!" Yuuri wailed.

"Hmph!"

Wolf shrugged off any silly promises he might have made on the subject – under duress, of course – as so much pointless blather. Yuuri was actually going to wed him – sooner rather than later, thanks to his trusty big bro-_ehem_, Weller-kyo and Gwendal – and that was more than fine by him.

"No! _**No!**_ Absolutely not! I am_ soo_ not ready for this yet," the Maou warbled frantically, shaking his head back and forth with every negative. He was apparently under the impression that sheer repetition of a phrase would make it so, despite all evidence to the contrary. It was actually rather amusing when combined with the flaily thing and the classic side-stepping 'Yuuri shimmy'; Wolfram nearly lost his patented Impatient Killer Frown™ to laughter.

" –Conrad, I _told_ you that, _remember? _How I'm not even legal at home to do much of _anything_ and Shori's going to kill me if I go ahead and marry _any_body, much less a _boy_, ohmy!, without _his_ express permission – and then there's Mom – _ohmygod _– _**Mom**_! Mom's never gonna forgive me –never, never, never,_ ever_, d'you hear?—if we do this without her, Wolf—but its way too soon anyway, isn't it? _Isn't it?_ We haven't even found all the Boxes yet!"

Conrad's lip twitched. Gunter raised his ever-present handkerchief to hide a smile. Gwendal, ever the serious one, glowered.

Yuuri had gathered steam as he scrambled for excuses, and was now hopping from one foot to the other in an energetic little dance of denial. 'Blah, blah, blah': Wolfram seemed as little impressed by the Maou's athletic version of clogging as he ever was, even if it were kind of funny. He merely intensified the firepower of his trademarked von Bielefeld glare instead, till Yuuri had turn away completely or risk having a hole bored through his rumpled forehead.

In desperation, the black-haired teenager sidled in the direction of Wolfram's elder brothers and his trusty teacher-mentor, the ever-gushing Gunter, hoping for succor. He opened his black eyes wide, barely blinking, and attempting to appear small, fuzzy and ridiculously helpless.

No use. Conrad, Gwendal and Gunter ceased their quiet discussion of nuptial matters and pivoted to face him, calmly examining the Japanese boy rapidly coming unglued in his own study; grey-brown and navy blue and frosted violet gazes totally bland and unconcerned, full of the certain knowledge that yes, indeed, the Maou _had _agreed to this, simply and without denial, through the customary mechanism of a well-earned slap across his fiancé's patrician cheek. Thatalone superseded any other objection the hopeful young Maou could possibly think up on the fly. It was clear _they_ weren't planning to be the voices of reason, not even the vastly sympathetic Conrad.

Except… for one of Wolfram's elder brothers; the stern one who despised motivational obfustication of any sort, and especially when it influenced the welfare of his darling little Wolfie. The grey-haired Mazoku General cleared his throat, having successfully withstood all the wistful 'protect me!' glances his Maou was giving him. Even if they were cute and so was Yuuri, this was his youngest brother's happiness at stake here and no Maou, no matter _how _cute and pathetic—

"A-hem. Yes, well. Let's be very honest and forthright here, your Majesty, for once. You are saying _now _that you no longer wish to wed our Wolfram, as is honorable?" rumbled Lord von Voltaire, after a briefest of pregnant pauses.

"You want to call off your engagement?" Conrad asked, one expressive eyebrow flying up.

"_Heika_!?" gasped Gunter, all pale and dramatic.

"Now, Yuuri—" Wolf interjected, and his tone might've been called reasonable and it might've been called autocratic, but the Maou heard something in the brief subtext that closed off that avenue of retreat before it was really even pried open and explored fully.

The boy in black gasped and froze solid, his expression segueing from pleading to horrified in the space of one short second.

"No! No-no-no-_**no!**_ O-Of course _not!_ I meant –just—just—not… yet."

Gwendal nodded. Gunter cooed. Weller smiled that smile of his, the one that sparkled and melted. Wolf-chan turned his head sharply to one side and snorted.

The Maou wilted visibly under the combined force of so much assurance as to his 'chosen' future. He missed Wolfram's sharp intake of a breath behind him entirely; was blind to the flash of satisfaction that illuminated the visage of the extraordinarily handsome nobleman, replacing the brief flare of panic. Wolfram allowed himself a grin, all toothsome and self-satisfied. Things were at last moving forward.

"Of course not," Gwendal, too, was now something approaching 'smiling', a state that simply did not occur in nature.

"I didn't actually _believe _you were disregarding your long-standing engagement to _my_ little brother, your Majesty. Not at this point."

"O-of course not!" Yuuri seemed to feel that phrase should be repeated several times purely as a preventative take on deflecting the inevitable Wolfram-blows from his wincing person.

"Right! What _you _said!"

Still, somehow that almost-smile of Gwendal's wasn't particularly pleasant. The Maou could practically feel his stock as a future brother-in-law dropping like a two-ton boulder – as well as the laser-like green eyes that now sought to pierce mercilessly straight through the back of his skull.

"Yuuri…"

Wolfram stepped forward, the tone of his voice impossible to describe. The Maou wasn't sure if the simple pronouncement of his name was meant as a warning or an acknowledgement, although he did realize that he should say something at least vaguely mollifying to his exceptionally dangerous betrothed – and _damn!_ He'd just made his own stupid bed again, at least figuratively, and now he had to avoid lying in it!

Right. O-okay. Now what? What does one say to a bishounen ex-Prince when one tells him one doesn't want –_isn't ready—_to marry him?

_And what do one do when he_ kills_ one?! Dead!_

Somewhat daunted by his own gruesome imaginings, the Maou scrambled for an acceptable excuse for his ongoing excuses to avoid their inevitable wedding – one that wouldn't get him skewered alive by uber-overprotective older brothers Gwendal or Conrad (or, most importantly, sizzled to cinders by his terrifying fiancé).

"Erm. R-right. Of course I _want_ to m-marry you, Wolf-chan –I mean, come _on_, Wolfram," and here the teenager risked a short look over his shoulder at the fuming blonde— briefly, nervously.

"_D-darling._ It's_ obvious_ I was only saying that it's just too soon to go ahead with the whe-whe-wedding, that's all," the shaken Maou stumbled on, whipping his gaze back to the saturnine trio who stood observing, assiduously avoiding his erstwhile fiancé's burning emerald eyes. Yuuri was a bad liar but he wasn't completely stupid—he had to make his story good enough to be believable and then stick to it, come hell or high water. Wolf-chan knew him far too well to be put off by just anything.

"W-we just—we need more time to plan for stuff like this, Wolf-chan. Why, it could take _years_!"

Yuuri wobbled his mobile hands about, grasping at straws and every shoujo manga plot he'd ever read that involved the details of marriage.

"I mean, weddings are so _complicated_ and you have to worry about all those _people _you might offend by accident if you don't invite them and there's gifts and halls and rice and, and, _b-besides,_ we have p-plenty of opportunities to get to that sort of thing _later, _when things calm down, Wolf-chan. I mean, _right now_ there's lots more _impor_—ack!"

"What, Yuuri? More _what_?"

Wolf had taken advantage of the Maou's palpable distraction to sneak up on him and now he deftly pivoted the gabbling Yuuri in place and grabbed firmly at his high, tight gakuen collar. With methodical slowness the Mazoku squeezed the stiff fabric just a smidge tighter against the bobbing jut of the Maou's Adam's apple, twisting it within the elegantly long fingers he generally used to hold heavy metal swords. Yuuri went from gabbling to gasping and back again in two short seconds.

"Uh…um, um, more, more, um, erm—'immediate'!? _'Urgent'_?" Yuuri offered, flailing once more. He was flushed instead of pale, but this time it was clearly the lack of oxygen affecting him and not just the excessively uncomfortable ambiance.

"_**Not**__ '_ important'!' the hapless Maou immediately backtracked. "I didn't _say_ 'important'! I didn't _mean _that the wedding wasn't 'important' or anything like that, Wolf-chan—okay? _Alright!_?"

"Uh, _huh_."

Twist, tighten. A feeble gasp on Yuuri's part as he practically hung from those vicious fingers. Green eyes aglitter with half-lidded menace, Wolfram applied pressure.

A second took its good old time ticking past and it was apparent to anyone with eyeballs that the very furniture was breathlessly awaiting the unfold of events.

"_Stop it, Wolfram!"_

Finally, the dark-haired youth gathered himself, hissing, and forcibly wrenched back, shoving a defensive palm against the blonde's shoulder and gaining a few precious inches of personal space. The Maou very seldom used his full magical strength against his fiancé, much less the physical – not even when they were play-wrestling – but sometimes Wolf-chan was just too damned pushy for his good!

And too damned _suspicious_!

"Important things to do _first _is what I'm saying!" Yuuri stated, jaw firming as his quivering mind jelled in tandem. He did have a reasonable reason to put this off, he knew it! It'd just taken him a little longer than was absolutely diplomatic to figure it out and present it!

And furthermore, this was one tough audience! Jeez!

"_Then_ we'll think about all that mushy stuff, o-okay? Right? **Right?** We _can't _just go getmarried when there's that kind of threat to Shin Makoku, can we? _Think_, Wolf-chan! The Boxes _have_ to be our first priority! I don't want to go ahead and marry you and then just lose everything we have together because of some stupid old _curse_! It's not right!"

With this impassioned proclamation, which surely even Wolf-chan had to admit was sensible, Yuuri risked sliding his patented woeful puppy dog eyes straight to Conrad, his usual refuge, silently signaling a cry for 'help!' and reinforcements. The beautiful ex-Prince sneered nastily and said not a word, lip curling the moment Yuuri glanced away, though he finally did ease his clutching fingers the infinitesimal amount necessary to allow Yuuri to breathe comfortably.

T o Yuuri's great disappointment, his godfather-cum-savior only smiled and lifted his straight shoulders in the tiniest of casual shrugs, clearly offering no material aid whatsoever in this exigency. Gunter and Gwendal watched, impassive. The matter was quite solidly in the Maou's court. His funeral, as it were.

"So."

Wolfram rolled the single syllable around his tongue as if it were somewhat bitter. His glare was now leveraged up to a Phase II™ stage, indicating that an explosion of Wolf-chan-Wrath© was imminent.

"So,_Yuuri._"

The Maou wrenched his reluctant gaze back to his fiancé, black eyes widening at the flat expression that leveled Wolf-chan's fair features. Experience had taught him Wolf-chan only looked like that when something was very, very wrong between the two of them.

" You're telling me that, _after_ we take care of these pesky Boxes and anything else that might arise from the finding of them, and _after_ we deal with any _other_ dangers Shin Makoku might possibly face in the meantime—and there are always dangers, Yuuri, and kindly don't forget that—_then _you'll finally be ready to honor our betrothal? Is _that_ what you meant by 'important', wimp? Are those bloody Boxes are more 'important' to you than your own _fiancé_?"

The Maou didn't dare nod at Wolfram's remarkably succinct summary of his most recent _raison d'etre_ to postpone their official nuptials but his dark gaze flickered guiltily.

The soldier's grip on Yuuri's collar tightened again. Out of the corner of one skittering eye, Yuuri noticed Wolf-chan's other hand was resting not-so-casually on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Clearly, the thought of enduring yet another unspecified length of time to finally assume his rightful place as Consort didn't appeal in the slightest to His Grace Wolfram, Lord von Bielefeld, not even if there were reams and reams of 'good reasons' available for Yuuri to offer.

The Maou's situation had apparently just graduated from 'bad' to 'worse'.


	2. Chapter 2

Hide & Seek 'Hide Predux' or "Why Shinou Has It In For Me" Part 2

Yuuri gulped. Wolfram glared, patented Third Degree, Master's Level™.

After a strained moment lasting approximately one full century, Wolfram huffed an oddly rueful half-sigh at the wall-eyed teenager hanging pathetically from his fingertips and settled back on his slightly stacked heels, forcing Yuuri to hunch forward and lean onto his tiptoes should he wish to continue breathing. The Mazoku shook his perfectly styled blonde head at the Maou's stricken expression, rather as if Yuuri really were the guileless boy child he sometimes seemed to be.

"You know, Yuuri, I can help you if you'll just let me," Wolfram remarked reasonably, his engagingly confidential sideways nod encouraging a hapless Maou to nod along with him. "The day-to-day paperwork alone would ease your burden considerably—"

Gwendal and Gunter both nodded madly at _that_ suggestion, suddenly quite enthused. Conrad grinned behind the fingers of one lean hand, but all three Mazoku brethren and elders remained silent, apparently curious to see if the determined firebrand would finally manage to convince their Maou that moment was ripe for a Royal wedding _this time_. Wolfram had never succeeded yet, but there was money to be made in bets placed on long shots and dark horses.

"And, too, you know I have those military connections –" Yuuri could've sworn Wolf-chan winked companionably at him but that was likely a delusion caused by restricted oxygen to his braincase "—all with our bordering nations—the very ones that would be most useful in discovering the whereabouts of your stupid Boxes, which, in turn, would no doubt clear up this annoying mess even faster , and–_pay attention here, wimp!_ –don't forget, Yuuri, that with _me_ as your official Consort, you won't have to worry about assassination attempts when you're out there blithely cavorting about looking for them—

_and cheating on me!_ –because _I'll _always, always be at your side _and_—"

There was more. Inevitably, there was always _more_—more reasons, more arguments, more pressure. Yuuri strove mightily to restrain his automatic 'Not-this-again' grimace; Wolfram sucked in a short breath through that delightful nose of his, not even pausing, pushing his pointy chin forward, emerald green eyes growing larger and larger in Yuuri's view, till the Maou could see nothing but a swirl of incandescent color and hear nothing but the sometimes lilting, sometimes harsh tone of Wolfram's voice. Whether he was listening, however, was debatable. Certainly, the Maou had gotten rather practiced at tuning out Wolfram's words.

"And _I, _personally_, _as _your _honorably wed Consort and_ your _faithful soldier_, _Yuuri,will make sure you're always safe, or die trying! That's my sworn duty, being your subject and your fiancé, wimp, and you. Are. Not. Going. To. Stop. Me. No matter _how_ you try to wriggle out of it. Understood?"

"Ah! Erm."

The bishonen face hovering before Yuuri's shifted subtly, taking on a tint of sour grapes that seemed ill-suited to such elegant features.

"But…you don't want that, _do you_?"

Wolfram's impassioned tenor dropped to sibilant hiss and his sculpted jaw tightened, along with his fingers. Yuuri swallowed hard against the closeness of the starched stiff fabric of his high-necked gakuen collar when his fiancé brought his back ramrod-straight again, shoulders so taut under the decorative epaulets a fully laden sterling silver tea tray could've rested on them without tilting. He tugged the off-balance Maou toward him with a jerk, twisting the collar ever tighter. The hand that had caressed his sword hilt now fastened tightly on his fiancé's arm.

"Um—ngh!"

The Maou choked and in turn lifted his own thin shoulders, hunching and then flexing, trying to ease Wolfram's minatory grasp, but no dice.

"You'd rather do this alone, without me, wouldn't you?" Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld remarked, his face as harsh and grim as Yuuri had ever seen it.

The room was deathly silent but for Yuuri's labored gasping. Every eye was fixed on the Maou's flushed face.

"You'd much rather prove you can handle the danger all by yourself and let no one help you, correct? No matter how often you protest that you need us, or how often we attempt to demonstrate our loyalty? Only because _you're _the Maou and _you're_ the one 'responsible'? Thus, you don't let Weller-kyo, the finest swordsman in Shin Makoku, draw blood for you, nor Gwendal von Voltaire, the best military commander in the Army, destroy the rebel's strongholds with his earth maryoku and his infantry—or even allow Lord von Kleist here practice his dark arts and diplomacy for your gain—_do_ you, Yuuri? The soldiers aren't supposed to die for you; your valiant people are forfeit the right to defend you. "

Without further adieu, Wolfram released his betrothed with a flourish, dusting his hands as if to announce 'Good riddance!' Yuuri lurched back, struggling to find his feet, but his fiancé's words did not stop.

"No, Yuuri. You are convinced, right or wrong, that you must do every little thing by yourself – scurry hither and thither to find these magical items, parlay with every neighboring court and every passing bandit to secure their good wishes— even blindly sacrifice your life at the drop of a hat to protect us, with no thought to Royal succession—no care for our bleak and uncertain future without you. And, in your stated opinion—your worldly wisdom—not even the person of your official intended may be permitted to share your burdens, nor provide you without stint _his_ protection and _his_ guidance. Is that not precisely how you perceive matters, Yuuri? Have I missed anything crucial?"

Eyebrows were quirked at the Maou's gawping face in a very devilish and assured manner. Somewhere deep within Yuuri, a reprehensible little voice was screaming '_Sexy!_'

"Oh, yes," Wolfram drawled, "—there's one more item on your not-so-hidden agenda, my darling. As _you _are the one-and-only Hero, you can't even conceive of endangering another soul with all these dangers that surround you, even if they are foresworn to be at your side. Thus, your perfectly competent, tactically-trained fiancé must be wrapped in cottonwool and kept safely stashed on the sidelines. "

Yuuri's mouth flopped open and not because he still needed additional oxygen. It was simply—it all sounded so very _wrong_, when Wolf-chan put it that way. Selfish, even. Like he was doing a bad thing, here, trying to keep the people he lov—_cared for_ safe and happy.

Green eyes blinked at Yuuri from a perfectly composed face. Wolf folded his arms in front of him and tilted his chin inquiringly, much as if he were asking Greta if she preferred ice cream or cake after supper.

"Tell me, your Majesty, is that the way they do things on your Earth? The one partner in a relationship is responsible for absolutely _everything_ and the other just sits on his duff and does _nothing_?"

Wolfram bared his even white teeth in a gamine grin, but it was not an action that expressed pleasure. Yuuri struggled to spit out a meaningful protest or two to halt this horribly uncomfortable examination of his own not particularly well-sorted motives. Never had Wolfram done this to him before—oh, sure, he'd ranted and he'd yelled and he'd carried on, but he never, not once, took apart Yuuri's presumed intentions with a steel scalpel. Yuuri was seriously starting to wonder if his Wolf-chan was possessed.

This was…frightening. It was—downright _scary!_ It couldn't possibly be how his Wolf-chan really thought of him…could it?

"Well, I—well, no—that's not—"

What had seemed so clear in the Maou's mind was now horribly muddied. Yuuri, who'd always had perfect twenty-twenty vision, felt terribly myopic.

But Wolfram's unending stream of words was gaining a passionate momentum once more. The Maou unconsciously braced himself, twitching.

"And, furthermore, wimp, you actually seem to expect _me—_Wolfram von Bielefeld, of _the_ von Bielefeld_—_ to endure this idiotic situation without a single, solitary word of complaint, don't you? Even if this whole stupid deadlock goes on _forever_? Even if we _never_ get married?"

"O-Of course not! _Wolf_—"

"All because _you _need 'time' and 'distance' and 'baseball' and all those _other _excuses for shirking your responsibilities – the very ones you don't hesitate to use to your advantage every single time this subject comes up! You're a _flirt_, Yuuri—a wimp and a cheat and a flirt, constantly taking advantage of the people who care for you!"

The blonde flipped a casual hand toward the gathering of Mazoku who watched them so intently. Shifting guiltily, the three older men behind them eased away an imperceptible distance further from the tableau of helpless Yuuri and angry Wolfram, moving closer to the windows.

"No! Really! Wolfram! Stop it!"

The Maou was angry—windows rattled in their sashes; the carpet beneath their feet fluttered. His fiancé merely huffed and carried on.

"Did you know I was tired of this, Yuuri? _So _tired. That it not only exasperated and exhausted me, but also every single one of your long-suffering subjects? Maybe _you_ don't realize; maybe _you _simply don't notice because you _never pay attention_, but your entire kingdom is expecting you to marry me, just as you promised!"

The green eyes were very close once again, sparkling with righteous indignation and a whisper of the same disappointment he'd glimpsed in his Chief Military Advisor's eyes, and the latter jolted Yuuri into realizing something he'd never fully comprehended before: his _bishounen _Wolfram was not just insisting they get hitched because of any personal gain he might earn from becoming Yuuri's legally acknowledged mate or any misguided feeling of obligation to his duty; he was actually worried, deeply concerned even, about Shin Makoku's people, about its _future_. The ex-Third Prince wanted to ensure it – he wanted to _be there_.

"To _me_, wimp. The one you've been promised to for ages, by your own actions. You can't get out of it, Yuuri, no matter how long you put me off or how many stupid excuses you come up with. I won't allow it!"

The Maou barely heard him, his black eyes wider and wider as a whole new thought-stream carried him off to whole new vista.

…Just like Yuuri was worried and concerned about his unexpected kingdom, all the time, so was Wolfram. To the point where he, Shibuya Yuuri, Baseball Boy, all-around middle-of-the-road kind of guy, would do anything – _anything_ – to shield the ones he'd come to trust and love and care for from any more harm or hurt. Even Wolfram – especially Yuuri's very dear Wolfram, with his deceptively fragile appearance and his heart like a blazing fire lion.

Yuuri's shell-shocked gaze slid thoughtfully to the other occupants of the room, seeing warriors, teachers, leaders of Mazoku; honorable gentlemen who would also do anything necessary to keep their homeland safe and free.

They'd all sacrificed so much already – Conrad and Gwendal, Wolfram and Gunter, Cheri-sama and his darling little Greta. Hube and Adelbert and Yozak and all the others in this huge labyrinth of a Castle and the villages and settlements that surrounded it, on and on till one fetched up at Shin Makoku's uneasy borders. How could he possibly let any one of them – any one of_ his_ subjects – take on the sheer heart-stopping danger _he _was destined to face?

It was unthinkable, impossible to consider. He could no more draw Wolf-chan into his own personal maelstrom by marrying him than he could fly – well, maybe _that _wasn't a good simile – um, than he could actually wed a _boy_. He wasn't even gay, damn it! Well…not noticeably.

Wolfram clucked his pink tongue in heartfelt annoyance at the Maou's obvious abstraction and pounced once more, the restraining hand moving to force Yuuri's chin – and his attention – back toward his impatient betrothed.

"Sooo…Yuuri."

With careless grace, Wolfram angled his perfectly coiffed blonde head in till his nose was only an inch from a blinking and rapidly going-cross-eyed Maou. Fingertips nipped viciously at the Maou's chin as they tightened. Yuuri was positive his neck and jaw would have giant purple bruises – and how was he supposed to explain those to Mom and Shori? Say he got them from his 'boyfriend'? Explain patiently that his tempestuous male lover liked it a little rough? As did _he_, evidently, since he was feeling weirdly excited under the grip of those punishing fingertips?

Sheesh! Talk about no-win situations!

"Let's say I'm willing to wait for a bit longer, out of misguided kindness to you and your wimpy prenuptial nerves. Six months, perhaps, on the absolute outside. How _exactly_ do you plan to make it up to me, Yuuri? Because I _will _expect to be rewarded."

The emerald eyes were half-lidded and heavy with intent—Yuuri shivered at the cold trickle of excitement spiraling up his spine. Now his gorgeous Wolf-chan was smiling again for real, an effect similar to a double rainbow after a thunderstorm, but the canny Maou was positive Wolf-chan didn't mean it. There was absolutely no way in Shinou's Green Acres Wolfram could actually be willing to wait even six months – not when he'd spent every daylight hour impressing on Yuuri the imminence of their wedding.

Not after he'd just laid out exactly the error of Yuuri's ways, the great big hole in his logic—for all present to see, even Yuuri.

Realizing the truth of this and the likely painful effect it would likely have on his person, the Maou instinctively used one of his regular tactics in dealing with the 'Irate Wolfram': going very still and silent, like a rabbit humbly acknowledging he'd stumbled into a bear trap. With luck, he could still avoid this and escape. Japan looked like a pretty good option right now. A quick jaunt to the fountain in the courtyard and then he'd be free and clear, at least for a day or two. And clearly, he needed to think a few things through in relative peace and quiet, like _why_ he kept denying this marriage and _how _he'd feel if Wolf-chan really did back off the way Yuuri always claimed he wanted him to. And _what _he'd do if Wolfram really lost his patience.

His fiancé, Yuuri realized, was actually a very dangerous young man- erm, _demon _.

_Although he's very fine-boned; almost delicate …and breathtakingly pretty….and steadfast, too –oh, and he smells so damned good, even when he's sweaty _murmured the somewhat breathless running commentary Yuuri always had going in the way, way back of his twitchy teenage consciousness. The Maou ignored his sensual self firmly, in deference to the threat that hovered before him.

_Haven't you noticed that already? _Yuuri's not particularly abashed alter ego chimed in—the one that seemed to exist in his groin._ The way you _feel_ when he smiles? The way you practically salivate? What, are you dense or something?_

Yuuri opened his mouth and closed it a few times, aping a goldfish, not really sure how one went about yelling at one's own brain. Privates. Or—or _whatever_.

"Yuuri?"

Thankfully, Wolf-chan interrupted the Maou's internal quandary, thus preventing his poor brain from imploding. The dark-haired boy swallowed hard, gratefully, and tried to confirm his unexpected good luck.

"Y-You _are_? Really?"

Wolfram glared with the force of a thousand suns at the vastly mistaken implication he might be joking, effectively rendering the Maou mute once more.

Okay—_okay_. Obviously, Yuuri thought, it was better not to rile Wolf-chan – and his older _brothers_ – any more than he apparently already had, especially if Wolf-chan really _was_ serious about conceding a reprieve on this wedding date business. Six months was a long time – Yuuri could get an awful lot accomplished in six months if he could just stop worrying about his engagement.

Still, that was not to say Yuuri wasn't very, very grateful to Wolfram for letting him off the hook _even for a little while_, but, as soon as humanly possible, he planned to hand off the entire subject of wedding planning like a charbroiled potato and go back to his tried-and-true tactics of amiable avoidance –if not outright fleeing and hiding! He had a lot of _other_ things to worry about before he worried about marriage!

And his virginity. And Wolf-chan's intentions towards it. And how Wolf would look with his nightgown completely absent from that long, pale, luscious body—

Yeah. And…they should talk some more about those Boxes, anyway. Those forbidding magical objects made Yuuri prickle with foreboding anxiety for some reason – leaving him even more jumpy than he already was, just contemplating his impending nuptials.

Mildly infuriated, Wolfram shook the abstracted Maou impatiently, so that his dark head bobbed on his fingerprinted neck.

"_Yuuri_!"

"'M-make it up' to you?'Make it up' _how_?" Yuuri squeaked, finally remembering to question Wolf's particular phrasing, and his accidental-but-probably-on-purpose fiancé wreathed his face in a saccharine smile for a second time, nodding back with a potently pleased air Yuuri felt was entirely unwarranted, given the ghastly situation.

"Mmmm," Wolf-chan purred, throatily, and certain parts of his officially betrothed combusted.

The Maou gasped—soundlessly.

"_So_," Gwendal cleared his throat and spoke up, addressing Gunter in a purely conversational tone, as if there was nothing out-of-the-usual going on in his Majesty's study. "That's what, six months from today's date for the wedding? Do you think you can manage to arrange it all in such a short time, von Kleist?"

"S_-Sssi-Sssixxx_!" Yuuri hissed, his eyebrows achieving heights they'd never before attempted.

He glared accusingly at absolutely everyone, his black eyes darting from face to face. Hadn't Wolf-chan practically just said—huh? _Wait!_

"Oh, no, that's really not necessary, Lord von Kleist," Wolfram cut through Yuuri's sibilance with superb confidence. "Gunter." The Mazoku smiled disarmingly at his erstwhile rival for the Maou's attention, no doubt of the opinion his recent scene with Yuuri had provided him the upper hand.

Calloused fingers slid softly, almost without premeditation, following the clean line of Yuuri's jawbone, rising to tease the curve of the Maou's quivering lower lip briefly, and then fell back slowly to the base of Yuuri's throat. A starstruck Maou was entranced by this caress, so much so he nearly closed his eyes to savor the unexpected gentleness but before he could, the black fabric of his collar was forcefully gathered up again in a casual grip, and a stunned Yuuri made like a deer-in-the-headlights once more, bedazzled by an assured—and very sensual—gleam of green-and-gold.

_Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to get married sooner rather than later_, Yuuri's groin suggested casually, swelling with the excess blood not currently required by his imploded brain.

_What difference would it really make in the long run?_

"Guh," Yuuri mumbled, but no one heard him.

"_I _shall do the planning for our wedding—" and here Wolf-chan gave the Maou a violent shake, which caused the fabric of the collar to pull tight across the young Maou's bruised windpipe, and followed it up with a vastly surprising salute of firm lips smack on the dead center of Yuuri's parted ones.

The kiss was short and sharp and sweet, rather like being whacked by a passing vanilla ice cream cone.

"Hah!" Yuuri responded, eyes popping.

Life, suddenly, did a kaleidoscope turn and focused once again on 'business as usual': flirting, fleeing, innuendo and hiding. This time, Wolfram was most definitely winking at his fiancé and that gesture was not in any way 'companionable' or 'friendly'. More like 'incendiary', actually. And Yuuri was blabbering mindlessly, like the adolescent hormone-ridden fool he was, not knowing his own arse from a hole in the ground.

"Right, Yuuri? That _would _please you, wouldn't it?"

"Ahn, ahn, ahn! _Nnngh_!" Yuuri gabbled, rational thought having left the room several moments previously.

_Waitaminute!Waitaminute!Waitaminute!_ _**Huh?!**_ screamed Yuuri's actual brain from a safe distance very far away from the study, and rapidly replayed all the words Wolfram's fierce voice had just enunciated so calmly.

_Didn't he just _say_ – imply – he'd be 'patient'? _Didn't _he? Right after he said I was being stupid and shortsighted and a two-bit comic book hero?_

"Think about it, wimp," Wolfram purred, leaning in so that he was practically cheek-to-cheek with the shivering Maou. The very tips of his calloused fingers caressed the tiny hollow at the base of Yuuri's tanned throat where a pulse thundered uproariously. Yuuri quivered harder in helpless response but dared not move an inch otherwise, a Pavlov's dog in training. The unasked-for caress was somehow very comforting for the Maou , even as his discombobulated heart thudded against his ribcage. The moment seemed…not-quite-right for fleeing.

_Well, no_, Yuuri's brain admitted sullenly, _Wolf-chan hadn't actually said that._ 'Six months' were the terms Wolf-chan had offered, but Yuuri, fool that he was, had stupidly assumed that meant _all _marital shenanigans were now officially on hold till after they dealt with the Box thingie. Apparently, it didn't.

Morgif's Meatlocker—he _really _had to start paying more attention!

Wolfram's familiar tenor was golden honey, warmed by the sun of summer, pouring over Yuuri's shattered nerves like a balm.

"You see, Yuuri, you'll have _me, _your meticulous and conscientious fiancé, taking care of all those pesky, annoying little details to the best of my natural, Shinou-given ability, in the excess of spare time I'll have while you're busy taking the brunt of this 'hero' business. While I go about _my_ usual routine—ensuring you stay hale and hearty and amongst the living long enough to give me my long-awaited wedding night _and _handling all the decisions about guest lists and table settings and whatnot—_your_ precious time will be freed up for those important manly actions you'll have to take as Maou, won't it, Yuuri? So you can track down those silly Boxes all that much sooner, yes?"

Wolfram grinned at his beloved's entranced expression, and all his lovely white teeth sparkled.

"_Almost_ singlehandedly, right?"

_No_, Yuuri grimly realized, _if anything,_ _his Wolf-chan was still on the fast track to marital bliss, absolutely_. Nothing _could possibly save him now._

"And, don't forget, wimp, we von Bielefeld's have _always_ had a certain knack for designing important social events—just look at Mother's parties," the blonde mused, jiggling a limp and resigned Maou just enough to keep those wide black eyes fixed firmly on his triumphant face.

"Ack!"

It was a protest of sorts, but not one worth attention. The other Mazoku in the room, assured that the fireworks were over temporarily and Wolfram was appeased, strolled closer with the intention of joining in on Wolf-chan's one-person discussion.

"Hmmm. Something simple but elegant…" Gunter offered up his opinion. "Perhaps violet and silver? With little tinkling bells for favors?"

Wolfram brought the hand that had been irefully gripping Yuuri's arm to his chin on one graceful motion, stroking it slowly and assuming the attitude of the 'Thinker'. _He_ wasn't waiting around to swing into action—no, not him.

"No, thank you, von Kleist," he answered decisively.

"I could prepare…favors…if you like, little brother," rumbled Gwendal, blushing faintly, and everyone but him took a moment to shudder at the idea of VIPs stunned senseless by the misshapen singularity of the plushies artfully adorning their place settings at the formal reception.

"Oh, _no!_ Thank you, Gwendal, but I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble—!" Wolf-chan cut in immediately, shoving that Shinou-forsaken idea right back into the spidery closet it had crawled from.

"S'no problem," muttered the Commander in a grumpy little voice, scuffling one polished boot into the carpet, but everyone worked very hard to ignore him, even the Maou.

In self-defense, Yuuri would've continued to mindlessly admire yet another delightful pose—outright horror, manfully disguised by a shy, brotherly smile—on the part of his betrothed, but his vision was fading in proportion to the increasing pressure on his collar. Feebly, he struggled, kicking at Wolf-chan's shins and sucking a thin trail of air in through his nose.

"_Nnnn_! Mnhh! Angh!"

"Actually, I think, perhaps…a black and royal blue theme would be nice, don't you?" Wolfram looked to his fiancé's advisors for agreement, obviously expecting to get it. It was his wedding, after all.

"With maybe just a hint of rose pink to highlight the depths of our combined colors. Oh! Yuuri, you don't have any family regalia we could use, by any chance? For the invitations?"

Wolfram finally turned his luminescent emerald eyes back to his reluctant fiancé, only to frown at the unhealthy shade of his Majesty's face. It was a shade of blue, yes, but not exactly the hue he'd envisioned.

Eyebrows arched charmingly into the pause.

"Yuuri?"

"You're choking him, Wolfram," Conrad smiled kindly at his little brother before he turned back to the quiet discussion of invitational strategy he was engaged in with a rapt Gunter and a stoic Gwendal.

"I don't believe he can answer you whilst in that condition."

"Oh –_yes_. Sorry, Yuuri! Are you alright?"

"Haaa! Haaaa! _Hooo_! Gack! Gads, W-Wolfraaam! What in Shinou's Shorts did'ja havfta go and do _that_ for?" the Maou flailed, gamely winding up. "You're _killing _me—I could've _died_ here!"

"Yuuri!" His fiancé's unrepentant expression clearly said 'Bah! _Faker!_' Yuuri grimaced. Like _that_ was a surprise.

"Sheesh!" he muttered, unsettled on way too many different levels, but his fiancé had turned away again, caught up in the formalities of invitations.

Irate, aroused, off-center, the Maou stopped his pointless internal bitching and wrestled his recalcitrant brain back into the room for some actual _thinking_.

Now that no one was paying attention to him and certain distinct escape possibilities were re-opened for business, Yuuri remembered something very important his father had said to him once, long ago, after an especially disappointing trip to local playground seething with neighborhood bullies.

He'd been sniveling, his T-shirt muddy, a brand-new shiner decorating his woebegone face.

_Sometimes, Yuuri-kun, you simply have to run away first and then maybe come back and fight another day, _if _you think it's worth it. Especially with people like _that_, because they just don't seem to understand. Sometimes, you can't expect them to, you know? They just see things differently. _

_His dad had patted his messy black hair and suddenly the sting was gone from his sore eye and split lip. _

_And… that's okay, Yuuri-chan. It's alright for it to be that way. Remember, bravery isn't always about confrontation. _

Grinning impishly, Yuuri put this sage filial advice into immediate action, twisting his poor abused neck fully out of Wolf-chan's slackened hands, whisking about and running like a jackrabbit on jet fuel—all in one fluid, well-practiced motion, the heavy carved wood of the study door reverberating shut on the motes of the tiny, blue-washed dust cloud scudding merrily in his wake.

Oh, yeah! Time for a fast dip in the fountain!

"_**Yuu-riii!"**_


End file.
